


Two Guys Get Thrown Into the Trunk of a Car

by INMH



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Crime, Drama, Gen, Handcuffed Together, Humor, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alright, so there might have been some room to admit that he’d fouled up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Guys Get Thrown Into the Trunk of a Car

“Bekowsky, if we get out of this alive, I’m going to fucking kill you.”  
  
Stefan snickered into the cheap carpeting of the car’s trunk. “Ooh, I’m terrified. Whatcha gonna do, War Hero? Give me a lecture on responsibility being my patriotic duty?”  
  
His arm was suddenly bent into an extremely uncomfortable angle, and the snickering abruptly turned into a gasp of pain.  
  
“Ahaow, ow, ow, ow, made your point, made your point.”  
  
Alright, so there might have been some room to admit that he’d fouled up. There was, perhaps, also some room to admit that he’d gotten cocky, and that the last thing he should have done was turn his back on the asshole they’d just spent ten minutes chasing and then (presumably) knocked unconscious.  
  
“Presumably” ended up being “not really”.  
  
And “not really” ended up leading to Stefan and Phelps being cuffed together and thrown into the trunk of the Asshole’s (stolen) car. Stefan was pretty sure Phelps had mentioned the guy’s name before, but honestly, getting bashed on the head by a guy big enough and strong enough to lift Phelps up and _throw_ him some feet away made one’s memory a bit fuzzy. So for now, their assailant was Asshole.  
  
“Maybe you should spend less time trying to break my arm, and more time trying to figure out how we should get out of here.”  
  
“I’m trying.” Phelps grumbled. “And so far I can’t think of anything we can do until he opens the trunk.”  
  
“You mean ‘if’.”  
  
Stefan felt Phelps stiffen a bit; apparently it hadn’t occurred to him that the guy might just get out of the car and push it off a dock or something. Admittedly, Stefan had only just come to that realization too, and suddenly his mood took a considerable drop.  
  
“Right. Right. That is definitely a problem.”  
  
“No kidding. Any luck with the cuffs?”  
  
“None. You?”  
  
“Yeah, I got mine off a couple of minutes ago, guess I forgot to mention it- _no_ , Phelps, I haven’t, that’s why I asked you. And don’t twist my goddamn arm again, I’m gonna need it if Asshole doesn’t dunk us in the river.”  
  
There was no abrupt burst of pain, and so it would seem that Phelps took his appeal to heart. “I could try forcing the lid of the trunk with my shoulder, see if it comes loose.” He suggested. “But I’ll have to do it with the cuffed arm. It’s going to hurt a bit.”  
  
“Go for it. Like I said, not gonna have much use for the arm if we end up sleeping with the fishes.” There was a bit of shuffling as Phelps tried to get into position, and Stefan wasn’t entirely certain that the elbow that smacked into his chin was accidental.  
  
“Alright, let’s see-”  
 _  
BMF._  
  
Stefan grimaced, wrist burning from where the metal was digging in.  
 _  
BMF._  
 _  
It’s this or drowning, it’s this or drowning, it’s this or drowning._  
 ** _  
BMF._**  
  
“Put your back into it!” Stefan hissed.  
  
“Why don’t _you_ put _your_ back into it, since you’re the one who got us into this in the first place?” Phelps snapped.  
  
“I will, thanks. Move over.”  
  
More shuffling. For precisely eleven seconds, Stefan was directly on top of Phelps in a position that they wordlessly agreed they would never speak of again. Once he was angled best to hit the lid, Stefan made a concerted effort to do much better than Phelps, just on principle.  
  
And also because, despite the fact that he would never admit it out loud, that yeah, it wouldn’t hurt for him to get them out of this. Because he sort of kind of did get them into it. The bastard played possum like a pro, alright?  
   
 ** _BMF._**  
  
Great. He was the one doing the banging, and his damn arm still felt like it was about to get ripped out.  
 ** _  
BMF._**  
  
And his shoulder was getting sore fast.  
 ** _  
BMF._**  
  
“Not so easy, is it?”  
  
“Get bent, Phelps.”  
 ** _  
BMF._**  
  
- _ick._  
  
They both froze.  
  
“Did you hear that?”  
  
“Damn straight I did.”  
 ** _  
BMF._**  
 ** _  
BMF._**  
 ** _  
BMF-_**  
 _  
-click._  
  
Sunlight filled the trunk, and Stefan cackled with delight. “Oh, I am good!”  
  
“Bekowsky, did he take your gun?” Phelps was squinting up at him.  
  
“Naw, yours?” The redhead shifted, and Stefan saw that his gun was still holstered on his hip. “Oh, and _I’m_ the idiot of the day?”  
  
The car came to a sudden stop.  
  
“Oh, shit-”  
  
Stefan immediately went to climb out of the trunk- and was suddenly reminded that, oh right, he and Phelps were connected at the wrist. This reminder came in the form of him stumbling and falling onto his side on the pavement, wrist strained painfully.  
  
“Ow, ow, ow!” Phelps yelped, stretching to alleviate the pressure on his own wrist. He stumbled out of the trunk and, for one panicked moment the two of them were tangled together on the pavement as they tried to get their bearings.  
  
Fortunately, they managed to do so just as the driver’s door slammed shut. Asshole was greeted with two guns pointed at his Asshole face.  
  
“I think it goes without saying that you’re under arrest.” Asshole put his hands up, apparently not willing to push two guns. _At least he didn’t try to run this time,_ Stefan thought as Phelps used his set of cuffs on the guy. Christ knew that would have been a comedy of errors.  
  
“Alright, Bekowsky, where are the keys?”  
  
Stefan patted his pockets, looking. “Uh-” When he couldn’t find them there, he turned and looked into the trunk to see if they’d fallen in there. A quick scan revealed nothing. He frowned, and turned to Asshole. “Did you take my keys, Asshole?”  
  
The bastard started _laughing._  
  
“Threw ‘em out the window as I was driving.”  
  
Phelps groaned.  
  
Stefan’s eyes rolled shut.  
  
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think the captain’s seen stranger.”  
   
-End


End file.
